The Hardest Mistakes
by harleyquinnized
Summary: Greydene had a difficult upbringing. Born in the UK and adopted by American parents, her life in the system hasn't been ideal. She was brought to the US at a young age and at 18, joined the Statesman, a spy organization in Kentucky. The rules were too much and she goes rouge, becoming an assassin. Her first job? Protect royalty with help from the Kingsman and her Uncle, Harry Hart.
1. Prelude

"I'm going to need you to push harder than that, Claire. You can do this," the calming voice of the doctor lulled through my ears.

The delivery room was spinning. The beeping from the monitors around me were fading and the bright lights above me were slowly becoming dark.

"Claire, come on! One big push and we can get the baby." I did my best to pick my head up to look at my doctor. He had his face mask on with his round glasses, looking at what I didn't want to imagine. How could I have let this happen? It was only one night.

 **10 months earlier:**

I had met the man in the shops. The small villages of England have many, which make it easy for people of status to want to run towards them in hiding. The zig-zags of the roads, the hustle and bustle of the streets and the perfect decor in the windows are hard to ignore.

I worked in a small storefront bakery where I was able to smell the sweet cinnamon rolls and tart lemon pastries bake. The aromas were intoxicating as they would fill onto the street. The scents would bring in everyone. Tall, old men to the smallest of children; the poor who could only afford a half of one pastry, to which I'd slip in an extra two for good keeping and savoring. But on this day, we had attracted the rich. Rich in money, rich in status and rich with his words. His vocal elegance flowed like the smoothest velvet you could imagine.

"Excuse me, do you happen to cater?" The man asked as I brushed my flour covered hands on my apron.

"Yes, you'd need to fill out a fo-" I responded before being cut off from my boss.

"No need to fill out a form, Your Majesty! She don't know what she's on about! Just let us know that you need and we'll be happy to oblige!" She said, her white hair flapping away on the top of her head. I looked at the man as he darted his eyes away from me. I had no idea he was of royalty.

"The cupcakes. The lemon ones. They're to die for. I'd like those at the banquet this weekend, if you please?" He asked, his beautiful smile coaxing my boss into a frenzy.

"Absolutely! Claire, dear! Get to filling out that paperwork! I'll handle the rest of the store!" My boss barked, shoving the clipboard and pen at me before pushing me towards the man. I shook my head in her direction before turning back to the man.

"She's a fun one, isn't she?" He smiled before looking down at me.

"You have no idea." I said as I clicked the pen and wrote the beginning of the order on the paper. "So lemon cupcakes. Which frosting? And what colors?"

"I'd like a buttercream. A baby blue if you can." I continued to write, not making any eye contact.

"Garnishes? We have sprinkles, edible pearls, sanding sugar?"

"A light yellow sprinkle would be lovely." I finished writing the order. "Could I maybe request a lovely lady named… Claire, was it? Can she bring the cupcakes, or do I get the lovely, loud bird at the register?" He smiled. I looked up at him and shook my head.

"I'm not allowed to bring orders, unfortunately." I shrugged my shoulders and his smiled turned to a flirtatious frown. His blue eyes and brown hair were exceptionally memorable. The blue in his eyes was like ice, but the tension between us wasn't cold in the slightest. His hair brushed over his eyes slightly, making him look mysterious.

"Excuse me, ma'am? I'd like for Claire here to bring the order to the banquet, if you please. Her smile will brighten the room." He said. He looked back down at me, gave a wink and left the storefront without another word.

The banquet came quickly and I was told by my boss that I had to look as professional as I could. I was to represent the bakery with pride. I was granted access to the banquet hall to help set up the dessert display of the cupcakes. They had come out just like he wanted and there were hundreds of them. Our small kitchen of chefs had worked tirelessly to make sure they were complete perfection for Prince Andrew. I had three stands which would fit two sets of fifty cupcakes and one set of one hundred. The long dining table would then have every cupcakes filed in beautiful lines as if the most behaved children were walking into primary school on their first, nervous day. I was placing the cupcakes on the table when I heard the click-clacking of dress shoes approaching my direction.

"Claire, they look lovely!" Prince Andrew said as he approached me. I turned and took a bow.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." I answered, standing up straight.

"Oh Claire, please. You can just call me Andrew right now. No one's around." He smiled and I returned with one of my own.

"So what is this banquet for tonight?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"It's my like… fifth cousin's birthday or something. I don't try to understand my ridiculous family tree. But he wanted the cupcakes so I went as my gift to him to get them." Andrew explained.

"Cupcakes are the sweetest of gifts, so I think you made a lovely choice." I smiled as I turned back to the table to arrange the rest of the cakes.

"Ah, yes. The sweetest of gifts. Luckily tonight, I get a gift of my own." He laughed. "I get to see a beautiful, working woman do something she's passionate about." I looked back at him.

"Oh? Is there another working woman here?" I asked with a smirk on my face.

"No, just you." Andrew blushed. "Hopefully when things die down tonight, I can see you on less borrowed time and more leisurely time." He said before taking my hand and giving the lightest kiss to my skin.

The night was beautiful. Royal women in their gorgeous gowns, the men in their suits and the children trying their damnedest to remain proper in the face of political and powerful people. Andrew owned the room, smiling and engaging in conversation with everyone he encountered. The cupcakes were an absolute hit and by the end of the night, there were hardly any left. The clock chimed so many times that I was unsure of how long the party had actually gone on. It was close to one in the morning and people were just starting to leave, and those were only the people with young children.

I began to clean up my station and take down the cupcake stands when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Andrew hiding behind the pillar closest to my table. He motioned for me to follow him. Looking around to see that no one was looking, I followed and he brought me down one of the grand hallways of the mansion. The hall was dim and freezing on the winter night and I began to shiver. He took his suit jacket was off and draped it over my shoulders.

"So, why did you pull me away?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, clearly being okay with the temperature change.

"Leisure time, Claire." He said with a flirtatious smile. We continued to walk a ways down the hall, turning the corner to a darker area of the mansion. The leisure time was mostly silent, but the silence was comforting.

"I'd ask what all of this is like, but I can see this is it, apparently." I said quietly. "Lavish parties, beautiful nights, but in reality, you just want to get away from it all sometimes."

"Yeah, you kind of just want to sit in silence and not think for a while." Andrew said, stopping in the hall. He leaned against a doorway with his arms crossed. "And you? A baker with an evil step-mother like boss? A Cinderella story?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, her. She's… a little extreme, but I love baking and it's the only way I could save up for a place of my own." I responded, approaching the same doorway and leaning against the frame like he was.

"She's not actually your step-mother, I hope?"

"No, not at all. My mother was a housewife. My father was a retired engineer. My brother is… a tailor." I smiled, looking at one of the photos of some royal family members on the wall. "The Hart family is full of people who wanted to do things they loved. We were never taught anything less. Why lull yourself into a life you don't truly believe in?" I absentmindedly said before looking over at Andrew who had turned his full attention to me, his face inches from mine.

"Claire Hart, you amaze me." He smiled before placing a light kiss to my lips. My mind immediately began to race. I should have pulled away, but I couldn't. I didn't want to.

He broke the kiss, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips. My eyes did the same before we both met halfway and kissed again, this kiss being much more passionate. He opened the door we were leaning against and closed it behind us.

 **10 months later:**

"Push Claire! We're losing her!" The doctor yelled! I snapped out of my daze, let out a scream and pushed as hard as I possibly could. The room was spinning. My head was killing me. I felt blood vessels popping everywhere and my entire body felt like it was on fire. Then suddenly, the pressure I felt had started to melt away. A baby's cry filled the delivery room. It felt as if the boulder I was carrying on my shoulders for ten months had been lifted and hurled away. "A beautiful baby girl, Ms. Hart." I heard the doctor say. I sighed as he approached me with the baby.

"My beautiful little girl," I said, my voice weak. "My beautiful Graydene."

I didn't have to be given a sleeping aid. I felt exhausted and didn't want to move a muscle. The dreams were all so clear. A life with my baby. Being a single mother wouldn't be hard. I'd have the support from the people at the bakery and my brother, Harry. He would surely help me.

The dreams were ever-changing as they were clear. I heard a door creak and suddenly I was in my hospital room. The silhouette looked like Andrew, which I knew was impossible. He wouldn't come to see me. When he found out of my pregnancy, he said we could never see one another again. The figure approached my bed and clicked on the light next to me.

"Hello, my love." he said, his voice still as soft as velvet.

"Andrew?"

"Yes, love. I had to come see her. I was just too curious." He said, looking around the room at the monitors. All the sounds sounded so real. The room was dim and fuzzy. Why couldn't I move in my dream? "This will be our last meeting, my love. I love you, Claire. Truly." Andrew said as he went over to the sleeping Graydene. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. And suddenly, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1

"Grey, that was completely reckless." Tequila yelled in his thick, Kentucky accent. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't need this reprimanding from a man who wore assless chaps and cowboy boots on a normal basis.

"It wasn't reckless. It was effective." I spat, standing my ground.

"You drove your fucking motorcycle onto the tracks! You could have injured one of the horses, one of the jockeys or even yourself!" He approached aggressively. "The suicidal shit needs to fucking stop."

"I drove my bike onto the tracks because the fucking BAD GUY stole a fucking CAR and drove it onto the tracks. Let's not focus on me and the fact that I caught the fuck and you're treating me like a little child!" I yelled, uncrossing my arms. I stood up on my tip-toes and didn't even reach his chin. Tequila was a giant.

"I'm focusing on you because Champ isn't happy. He hasn't been happy with you for some time. If it wasn't for your father being one of us before he died, you wouldn't be." Tequila sighed. "Champ feels like you're a charity and I know you aren't. I'm just worried about you, kid." I stood silently with a glare on my face. He sighed and left the room.

Twenty-three years ago, I was adopted in London, England when I was one. I was adopted by a horse jockey and his very high-end wife. Dad was always away and so mom and I lived in New York for her business. She was an owner of a string of boutiques in Manhattan. I never wanted for anything, and yet they weren't my favorite people. It wasn't until my eighteenth birthday that I found out my father wasn't a jockey at all. He was a Statesman.

I was in training to be a Statesman when my father's accident happened. He was dealing with a job in Alabama and was killed by the guy he was investigating; a killer who always left a clue of his murder that would lead to the next. I was immediately made a Statesman and given his name, Vodka. I hated any thought of association with him, however and decided to put my own twist on the name. Everyone in the Statesman group called me Goose.

Champagne was the leader of the Statesman and he did not like me in the slightest. He felt that the Statesman's vote to induct me immediately was ridiculous and my risky nature wasn't any better. He definitely felt this way when my horse from training, Saddle was killed in an accident within my first year of being a Statesman. I decided after to switch to a motorcycle, which Champagne felt was an abomination to the Kentucky-bred Statesman. I didn't care so much. I was a New York-bred bitch.

I left my bunker in the Statesman mansion to go and find Champagne. Tequila coming to yell at me was definitely a sign that Champagne was in a fury and I didn't need that pressure being put on Teq. He was like an annoying older brother to me and truthfully, he was the only Statesman I cared about; minus Ginger, who used to be our own personal hacker. She left us to marry an English man, but taught me everything she knew while she was here. Now I pick up the slack and it's the only thing Champagne probably likes about me. I stopped outside Champagne's door where Tequila was waiting.

"Are you sure you want to go in there?" He asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"You know I get off when people yell at me." I winked and he chuckled.

"What are you going to do? If he..."

"Dismisses me?" I finished. Tequila nodded. "I'm going to do what I want." I huffed and opened the doors to his room without knocking and closed them behind me.

Champagne was your typical Kentucky Derby high-roller. He wore a 200-gallon cowboy hat, a beige suit and had very groomed white hair and a white goatee. He was our Champagne for a reason; he was the fanciest of us all. He sat with his arms on his desk and glared ahead at my small frame as I proceeded over to the chair that was in front of the desk. I sat down and crossed my legs.

"I'm not even going to explain. You aren't going to let me." I stated bitterly.

"I'm not. Your bike is to be destroyed and you are banned from ever being a field agent for the Statesman from this point forward. You are to sit in this mansion and hack computers if we ever need it." Champagne smiled, proud of his work. "I thought of dismissing you, Grey. I wanted to so badly."

"So why didn't you?"

"Why give you what you want? As a Statesman, you pledge loyalty. You will mind your oath of loyalty and remain a Statesman." He stated, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Now get out of my sight and go where I assigned you." I bit my tongue and stood up from the chair. I walked out of the room and slammed the door behind me.

"How'd it go?" Tequila asked. He never moved from his spot.

"I'm not dismissed." I said, and went to walk down the hallway. He grabbed my arm and looked at me.

"Grey, please don't do anything crazy." He sighed.

"Oh, nothing crazy. I'm just a hacker." I smiled and walked down the hall and to the elevators that would lead me to the hacking suite.

The hacking suite was a sky-high room of monitors, wires and the smell of smoky electricity. There were multiple seats on different sides of the room, meant for me to run around to depending on who needed me. Every seat was at a station for a different Statesman. Champagne, Tequila, Whiskey, Rum, Wine, Absinthe, and Vodka; except Vodka's station... or my station, rather, was dark. Champagne had turned off my networks.

I sat in the seat in the middle of the room that was connected to the computer and sighed. Leaning in the chair, I turned my head to look at my dark station. I knew that darkness wasn't just monitors being shut off. It was a message from Champagne. That I was stuck here and this was my new meaning. Ginger was lucky to get out of here when she met that man. She was lucky enough to escape Champagne and his annoyances, although she really did never seem to mind him; but she knew I felt held back.

As I sat in my thought while looking at my monitors, I saw something blinking at the corner of my eye. I turned to look at the computer and saw an incoming message from an outside interference. Ginger never told me what to do in a situation like this and I was unsure of what was happening. The Statesman is a highly secure and secret organization, how was anyone calling in?

The blinking stopped and I sat up, thinking I should tell Champagne. He was right, in an unfortunate sense. As much as I hated being a Statesman, I was loyal. I only hated being a Statesman because of the rules. Deciding to tell Champagne, I stood up but was interrupted by the blinking alert again. I sat back down and sighed.

"I could just tell him later..." I whispered before clicking the alert and a video popped up on the screen.

"Greydene Hart?" A man spoke. He had tan skin and dark eyes. His head was bald and he wore a suit jacket with a black shirt.

"Y-yes?" I said quietly.

"My name is Vance Jones. I've been watching you for quite some time, and I have a job for you." He sternly stated to the camera.

"I'm not taking jobs at the moment..." I slowly stated.

"This isn't a job for a Statesman, Ms. Hart. I'm in need of an assassin."

"I'm not an assassin. I'm not even a Statesman. I'm not meant to be." I cleared my throat.

"You're not meant to be a hacker in a computer room either. I can help you escape. You need only accept the job." Vance breathed.

"I'd be betraying the Statesman."

"Yes. But you'd be free." He stated. I remained silent. "Listen, if you change your mind, there's a motorcycle waiting in the seventh horses gate. Until then, Ms. Hart." Vance gave a nod and then the screen turned black.

I looked blankly at the screen, contemplating what just happened. How did this man know I was down here? How long was he watching me exactly? How did he know about the Statesman? I was confused and curious all at once. I looked over at my monitor and back at the computer screen.

Looking back at my monitor, I shifted my eyes to the entrance of the hacking suite, got up and stormed out of the room. I walked through the halls of the mansion as if nothing was wrong and went outside to the race track where the horses stables and the gates were. I walked past number one, two, three... and finally stopped at number seven. Behind the gate was a jet black motorcycle with a shiny red helmet.

Hopping the gate, I gently ran my hand over the leather seat and the wheels. The finish of the bike was beautiful and it looked far better than the other bike I had driven. I picked up the helmet and looked at myself in the reflection. I saw the mansion in the background and sighed. I put the helmet on, mounted the bike and revved the engine before taking off, leaving nothing but dust behind me.


	3. Chapter 2

The dusty, warm wind pummeled against my red helmet as I sped down the highway, leaving the Statesman behind me. I had no idea where I was going, no idea what this job was and no idea how this 'Vance Jones' knew my real name. Everyone at the Statesman manor knew me as Greydene Brooks. It wasn't until I did some under the table research that I found out my birth name was Greydene Hart and that was close to four years ago. I knew nothing of my birth family, so I chose to just be called Greydene, wanting nothing to do with the Brooks name either.

I drove the bike to a rest stop and parked in a space. The rest stop had a gas station, a small Inn and a diner. I was starving and was craving a good helping of pancakes. I walked into the diner and sat at the counter, taking my cell phone and my wallet out of my pocket and placing it next to me.

"What can I get you, love?" The small waitress asked. She was old and had white hair and glasses. Your typical grandma waitress.

"Pancakes and some bacon please? With a tall glass of orange juice." She wrote my order down and handed the slip of paper to the chef behind the window.

I looked around the diner which looked like it hadn't seen any type of reservation in years. The red and white tiles were cracking off the walls. The black tiles on the floor needed a gloss-over. There were rips in the booth cushions. As I inspected my surroundings, I felt the counter vibrate and looked down at my phone. A private number was calling.

"Hello?" I said with caution.

"Ms. Hart, I see you've chosen to take my job proposal. Very good." Vance said.

"How do you know who I am? Where am I even supposed to go? What is the catch here?" I interrogated.

"All in due time, Ms. Hart. For now, make your way to New York. I will send the coordinates to your helmet, and it will help you along the way. Enjoy your meal." He said and the line went dead. I looked at my phone and around the diner again as my pancakes and juice were served to me. How did he know I was eating?

After eating and paying the bill, I walked back over to the bike and picked the helmet up. Inspecting the inside and the outside of the helmet, I placed it on my head and sat back down on the bike. As I turned the bike on, the inside of the helmet also lit up with coordinates to my destination on one side.

"What the fuck am I? Iron Man?" I sighed and revved the engine.

I began my drive to New York which my new super helmet determined would be eleven hours. On this drive, I'd have time to think. I'd have time to think about this guy, Vance Jones. Who is he? Why does an assassin, super electronic making helmet man want little 'ol Statesman me to do a job? How did he know to contact Statesman computers and HOW ON EARTH WAS HE ABLE TO DO IT? How did he track down my name and information to contact me?

What would Champagne think when he found out that I had went rouge? Wait, strike that. What would Tequila think? I didn't care about hurting Champagne and deflating his trust, but Tequila was another story. The man was like a brother to me and had always supported all my batshit crazy decisions. He would reprimand me if I acted out, but at the end of it all, he cared. He didn't want me hurt or dead or in trouble. If I promised anything on this new journey, it would be that I would apologize to Tequila and that he would understand.

And this job? What possibly was it? Clearly it was a killing job, that's what an assassin does, but why me? I have the biggest kill rate in the Statesman group because I'm trigger happy, not because it was the right thing to do. Where would I have to go? Am I hopping the border to Canada? Am I killing a billionaire? Am I getting this Vance guys revenge? What am I doing?

All these thoughts followed me through my journey and I returned to every single one of them in the eleven hour drive. I had driven through the entire night and arrived in New York City at around seven in the morning. The coordinates led me to a small café in the SoHo district of Manhattan. I parked my bike in front and took my helmet off as I got off the bike. I fit in rather well in New York. I wore black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket that was now covered in the build-up of dust from the dirt roads in the passing states. My brown combat boots were stained and the laces were frayed from long-wear. I held the helmet in one hand and went into the café which was empty minus the person behind the counter.

"Excuse me?" I asked and the woman turned around. "I'm looking for a Vance Jones?" She looked around and pointed to the door in the corner and turned back to her work. I walked over and went to knock on the door, which opened right before my fist connected to the wood.

"Ah, Ms. Hart. Please, come in." I walked forward and heard the door shut behind me. I tossed the helmet on the closest chair and unzipped my jacket. "I hope the journey was well. You made it here in one piece." Vance said, his voice remaining behind me. I reached into the side pocket of my jacket and pulled out a gun, turning it on him only to see he had the same idea.

"What's the catch, Jones? Explain." I said, my finger ready to pull the trigger.

"A smart young woman. Readily prepared." Vance said, descending his gun. "A deal is a deal. Where would you like me to begin?"

"How do you know who I am?" I said immediately. He smiled.

"Your lovely friend Ginger told me." He responded. There was a quick silence. Ginger?

"How do you know her?" I asked, my gun still raised.

"She knew you were having some trouble within the Statesman group. She's an old friend of mine and said that if I could ever get you out of there, she'd repay me. Not that I expect her to, but I kept my end of the bargain." Vance explained.

"I never told her my last name, so how did she know?" I asked, trying to put any holes in his story.

"Ms. Hart, she was a star hacker at the Statesman compound and watched your monitors in that room every day. Did you expect she didn't know? She just chose to not use the information. You made a choice, Ginger respected it." He sighed and walked past me to sit down in one of the leather lounge chairs. I turned and sat in the one I placed my helmet on and kept my gun up. "Can we continue on with why I have you here?" I descended my gun slightly.

"Go on then."

"I need you on the next flight to London, England. There is an English prince, Andrew. He is in danger and I need you to take out the threat."

"That's all? Why couldn't you do this?" I questioned, putting my gun down.

"Because I am not an assassin, Ms. Hart." He retorted.

"Neither am I."

"No, but you are loyal and handle a gun quite well."

"Well? What do I get out of this?" I asked, crossing my arms, my gun still in my hand.

"I'm sure Prince Andrew would pay a lovely penny to know you saved his life, but in case he does not, I will pay a reward of fifty thousand." Vance said, sitting back in the lounge chair and crossing his legs. "You would also be reunited with Ginger. I believe she lived in London, England with her boyfriend. You will instate her help."

"Why instate her help? I know how to hack." I wondered, peering my eyes at him.

"She works with an organization that bares this symbol." Vance said, taking a paper off one of the side tables. Handing it to me, I look at it and look back up at him.

"A letter V with a line underneath in a circle?" I looked at the paper, bewildered.

"Yes. Ginger told me one of these agents would be at a rendezvous taking care of another mission. You are to find him and have him bring you back to Ginger." Vance said as he got up and walked over to a desk in the corner of the room. I got up and followed him, putting my gun back into the inside pocket of my jacket. "Ginger left this for you a while ago. It will help you." He said, placing a suitcase on the desk.

I turned to case to face me and opened it, revealing one of my old mission outfits on top. A black gown that changed into a full body suit when a setting on the pearl necklace it came with was changed. The pearl necklace was placed safely into a box along with hair pins that if thrown at a good enough velocity would slice through anything, including someone's throat as well as a pair of matching pearl earrings. I looked underneath and found an old laptop, a pair of shoes that go with the dress and some papers from my time in the Statesman. Closing the briefcase, I looked up at Vance who was studying my reactions.

"Is that all then?" I said, taking the suitcase off the desk and holding it at my side.

"No." Vance responded. "You will take a private plane to London. The party is tonight and you will wear that. There is a small supply of weapons as well as anything else you may need for tonight on the plane. A car will pick you up and take you." He explained.

"And where do I keep all this stuff? I can't just take a laptop and a super helmet into a party with me when I'm wearing a ball gown and pearls."

"The pilot and your driver are two of my men. They will take care of your things." He said. I sighed and nodded.

When I went outside with my helmet and suitcase, I noticed my bike was gone and there was a black SUV in its place. A man in a suit and sunglasses opened the door for me and I hopped in, placing my things next to me. The trip to the airport was quick and the car stopped right near the private plane I'd be taking to England. I stepped out with my things and walked up the stairs to the plane. The interior was a cream color with black details. It was your standard private plane with a bathroom in the back, two seats and a few cushions in the middle and some tables. I put my things on the table, buckled myself into one of the seats and closed my eyes, immediately ready and willing to sleep this entire plane ride. The last thing I felt was the turbulence of the plane taking off.


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hiya! I tried to make this chapter a little longer and hopefully it is. I'm sorry for the slow updates. I have a lot of things going on. Please leave some feedback as I'd love to hear your comments!**_

A shake of turbulence woke me as the plane passed through a screen of dark clouds. I let out a long yawn and stretched in my seat, my arm hitting the suitcase next to me. Remembering the dress and the other contents inside, I looked at my watch and saw that we'd be landing in a little under an hour. I picked the suitcase up and went to the back of the plane to the surprisingly large bathroom. The room was also a cream color but had marble details, a toilet in the corner, a shower and a large sink. Closing the door behind me, I placed the suitcase on the counterspace and began to strip down from my clothes.

I decided to take a quick shower before we landed. I smelled like sweat and dirt and couldn't consciously go into a party in that manner. As a Statesman, we were always told to look the part or we'd get caught. That mentality would work here as well. I quickly conditioned my hair and lathered some soap in my hands to run over my body. I let the soap and conditioner wash away under the hot water and relaxed there for a few moments, inspecting the marks on my body. That fucking chase at the tracks fucked my left leg up and there were black and blues everywhere from the way I handled the bike. I'd need to make sure the slit of my dress tonight was adjusted to the right side. I shut the water and stepped out of the shower, taking a towel and patting myself dry before wrapping myself in the soft, white fabric.

Opening cabinets in the bathroom under the sink, I was finally able to find a blow dryer. I plugged it in and did a quick semi-dry of my hair, making sure that it was still slightly damp to style the hair pins in more securely. I put my hair up in a high ponytail and began wrapping it into a more sophisticated looking bun, hooking the ends of my hair with the four hair pins, each donning a single white pearl. I pulled some baby hairs down to make the style look a little more messy-chic and began deciding on the style of the black gown.

The dress itself was customizable. You could design it to look any shape or any way, and when synched with the pearl accessories, the black fabrics inner magnetism would turn it into a full body suit. I decided on a one shoulder look with a slit on the right side to cover my bruises. Putting on a fresh pair of undies and a strapless black push up corset that I had found in the suitcase, I started the fabric on my right shoulder and let it go over my midsection and fall down. I pinned the dress on my left side and let the fabric fall in the places I needed it to. I took what looked like a garter but was really a weapon holster out of the case and slid it up my right leg, just above where the slit ended. Rummaging through my clothes, I took my gun and my knife from my inside pockets and placed them in the slights on the holster and draped the material over.

Last was the pearls. The pearl earrings, which were disguisers to make sure my weapons were undetectable went on first. Next was the bracelet, which had a built in taser on the biggest pearl. When the button behind it was pressed, the taser would fire. Lastly, I put on the necklace which controlled the dress and looked at myself in the mirror. Sighing, I rummaged through my jacket pockets again and took out a red liquid lipstick and dressed my lips with it, feeling like the look was now complete, and passable. I took the heels out of the case, packed everything from what I previously wore into the case and left the bathroom.

"Nice of you to join us!" One of Vance's men said as another ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

"I can only assume he gets sick when flying?" I responded, sitting back in my seat to put my heels on.

"Yes, he does. He was in there most of the time while you were sleeping." the man stated. "Now, as for the rendezvous point after this party..."

"I don't intend to have one. Everything I have is in this suitcase. I plan to plant the suitcase in a secure location, go into the party and do what I need to do." I stood up, making sure my heels were tight enough. "I will find these people your boss seems to be associated with and I will figure out my way from there. I'm more of a solo worker."

"We have orders to-"

"And now I am giving you new ones. Sound good?" I said as I sat back down and buckled myself in as the plane landed.

I sat at the head of the Kingman table, sighing as Merlin and his girlfriend Ginger walked into the conference room. Lancelot was to my left and Harry was to my right. Ginger took the tablet from Merlin and began typing things as I took a sip of my tea and looked down at my watch. A picture of a young woman with pale skin, bright red hair and brown eyes showed up on the screen with her stats. Five feet tall, twenty-three years old and... a Statesman?

"What's all this about?" I questioned putting my cup down. Ginger put on her glasses and looked around the table.

"This is Greydene... Brooks. She's listed as a Statesman but yesterday evening went rouge and ran from the premises. She was a friend of mine." She began, looking back up at the monitor. "Grey was very rebellious as a Statesman. She's incredibly trigger happy but she's also a genius. She's been a Statesman since she was eighteen years old and has the best hit record in the past fifty years and-"

"So where are we going with this, Ginger?" Harry asked, folding his hands on the table. Ginger seemed flustered and looked at him.

"I believe she's on her way to London. I've been led to believe she has some business here to tend to, and there is a strong possibility she will be at Eggsy's mission space tonight." Ginger continued before she looked at me.

"You are not meaning to tell me that this girl is going to try to kill my girlfriend at this party, I hope." I sighed, looking around the room. My fuckin' luck, being in a relationship with a princess.

"No, I don't believe that. But I will say that it is your mission to bring her back here for questioning. I must know what is going on before the Statesman group gets a hold of her. She'll be killed." She responded in a quieter tone.

"Hang on, my mission? Don't I make the missions now? You lot made me be Arthur after we found out Harry was alive. Why can't I choose anyone else to do this?"

"Because you'll already be there, Eggsy. Being Arthur is a great responsibility. Sometimes, you'll just need to take on two missions at once. The missions are simple. Kill the person who is after Tilde and then pick this girl up." Merlin interjected.

"Pick this girl UP? Tilde will have my head."

"Well then you chose a shitty time to have a girlfriend, mate. Especially one who knows your real profession." Lancelot said without a thought.

"Rox, really?"

"Enough." Harry interrupted. "Eggsy, this needs to be done. If this is coming up on our feed, it means the Statesman group wants up involved. Find her and bring her here." He sighed and got up, leaving the room. I looked back over at the picture of the woman on the screen and shook my head.

"Alright. Tell me about her, Ginger."

Arriving at the party, I used my phone to scan for any easy entry points into the place. The right-side entrance was unmanned and led to the far hallways from the party. I could stash my things there, walk out and walk back in as a partygoer. I walked across the street with my case in hand and down the ride side alleyway. It was dark, quiet and narrow. I quickly took one of my pins out of my hair and began picking the lock on the door, finally getting it open on the third try. I put the pin back in my hair and slowly snuck my way in. Taking my phone out again, I scanned for the closest, but most out of range area where I could get my things. There was a door right down the hall that was unlocked but close enough to the ballroom.

I hastened to the room and opened the door to look inside. It looked like a bedroom and had a window with easy access to escape if things went wrong. I placed my case by the door, took my clutch back which carried a cell phone, the party invitation, an extra knife and an extra gun and turned to leave the room. I closed the door behind me and exited the way I came, luckily not coming into contact with anyone on the way. I walked out of the alleyway and waited on one of the two the lines to get in, taking the invitation out of my clutch and the envelope.

The line moved quickly and soon I was close to the front. I turned and saw everyone moving as a car arrived and two people got out. A man got out of the car in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit. His shoes were black and he wore black, thick rimmed glasses. His hair was short and well kept. He helped a woman, who was tall and beautifully blonde get out of the car. She was matching him with a navy blue gown. They walked up, the man walking on my side of the line.

"Ah, Mr. Unwin. Princess Tilde. How lovely of you to arrive." The guard said. I studied the man's features as he spoke to the guard. He cleaned up rather well. "I'll need your invitations, if you please." The guard continued.

"Ah, right. They're here somewhere." Unwin said as he checked his pockets. As he went to the inside pockets, I noticed a ring on his finger. It had the symbol Vance showed me back in New York. I made a mental note of it and looked away, waiting with my invitation. He handed his in and off he and the woman went. I handed mine in two people after and made my way in.

The ballroom was lit by a gigantic glass chandelier in the middle of the room. People conversed in groups and you could tell they were according to class, if that was even still a thing. I walked further inside where a man asked if I'd like a drink. I asked for a Malibu Cranberry and waited for his return. If I didn't already stick out like a sore thumb, my drink order would have made it worse. I sipped from the straw as I walked through the ballroom, pretend mingling and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the evening, Prince Andrew!" Someone who sounded more like a town crier yelled. The ballroom jolted to applause and I followed suit. Prince Andrew. Why on earth does that sound familiar?

"Thank you all so much for coming. As you all know, twenty-three years ago I was appointed to take on a stronger role in England and I have been proud to say that I haven't let you down since." His audience applauded. "We're flourishing as a country, our trades from our ports are strong and the Queen is in pure bliss of our growth. Tonight, we celebrate another well wished year!" Prince Andrew boasted. Isn't he the guy I'm supposed to protect? Maybe that Unwin guy has something to do with it.

I looked around the room to see if I saw the man from earlier, and when I caught sight of him, I noticed he had caught sight of me. He was staring directly at me, and noticed that I had caught him, but didn't budge. I looked around the room and back in his direction but he was gone, the woman by his side sipping a glass of wine. The room began bustling and I noticed him passing people slowly through the crowd. As he passed a man, I noticed him slip something in the man's drink and make his way out of the crowd. An old Statesman trick when we were undercover at parties. Poison the bad guy through his drink. The man, who was incredibly tall and overweight took a sip of the drink. I looked at the Unwin man and noticed him with a pen in his hand and as he clicked a little bar, the man with the drink began to fall.

"Well, isn't that just fucking clever." I mumbled to myself as I placed my cup down on the table and began to walk away. I knew what I was dealing with and needed to know further.

I walked down the hallway in the direction of the room I had put my bag in. The hallway, which was empty earlier this evening was now lightly guarded. Three guards, all spaced out evenly. One on the far end, one by the door I broke into and one by my room. I walked forward and felt a presence behind me. I turned my head slightly and saw Unwin following in my peripheral. I walked over to the room and the guard moved forward.

"Can I help you miss? The party's that way." He sternly mentioned.

"Ah, yes. See, I know the party is that way, but I have a small thing to take care of in the bedroom, if you don't mind." I smiled, faking a British accent. "You could join us if you'd like." I remarked as Unwin came closer. I turned to look at him, his eyes wide.

"That won't be necessary madam." The guard blushed and returned to his post. I opened the door and ushered for Unwin to come in, and he followed soon after.

Walking further into the room, I took a pin out of my hair and when I heard the door close, I forcefully flung it at the door, hitting the lock in place. Unwin jumped back and looked at me, brushing himself to make sure I didn't hit him or graze his suit. I rolled my eyes and walked over to him.

"What? Don't like a little privacy?" I did my best to seduce in the fake accent.

"Pr-privacy is fine." He cleared his throat. "I don't do things like this without a name though, love." I smiled, and looked down at the space between us. I slowly closed the space, moving my lips to his ear.

"I hardly think that'll be necessary. You already know my name."


End file.
